Mercenary
by Reptile
Summary: Rated R for intended future content, I hope to make this story quite graphic. It follows the adventure of a mercenary, who uncovers the ill intentions of a supposedly dead magician. Please read and review.


Lightning forked across the steely grey sky and tore the bitter smoke apart, sizzling the air. Thunder smashed against invisible barriers like aerial earthquakes, shaking the rain forth from its dark prison. The heavens screamed and tears flowed freely. Anger flashed momentarily in bright yellow streaks, only to be swallowed up again and again by the smothering darkness. The sky was in turmoil, but it was a fractional representation of the chaos below. The village of Amibia, a smattering of buildings amidst the forest clearing that supposedly survived the Destruction of the past, lay in ruin. Trees; turrets of flames that stemmed upwards, vomiting vile smoke that violated the clouds. Huts and other buildings, reduced to ash in a matter of minutes, now steaming clusters of rubble. Citizens, all human, lay scattered in a contorted cascade pattern, most scorched to death. There was no able-bodied creature alive in all of Amibia. All that could move had fled.  
  
The mercenary was amongst those that had abandoned the ancient settlement, though he had departed in the direction of the Shrine, rather than heading for safety by the River. His name was Jenson. He did not belong in the community of Amibia - He was simply a drifter looking for business. Arriving in Amibia seconds before the flame elemental stormed the unsuspecting population, it was not particularly difficult to find a citizen willing to pay him to destroy the "terrible beast" for a generous price. Jenson took up the offer, and began his journey from the River to the Shrine, where he was informed the elemental sought refuge.  
  
He passed several huddled groups of ash-sodden humans, babbling in confused anger and gesticulating like madmen. A few pale men and women had gathered around a Priest, who appeared to be leading a prayer.  
  
Naive fools, Jenson thought to himself, mild disgust strayed onto his features. What good is your faith now? Your loved ones are dead and your possessions are claim to the fires. Your God is as obsolete as your village. On top of this, as Jenson understood it, the humans of Amibia had known of the existence of the fire elemental for almost a decade. In their delusional idealistic world, secluded from any form of reality by the miles of trees that encircled their homes, they had thought it a blessing from the Gods. They constructed the Shrine in its honour, and even went there to worship the foul creature during the day. And now that they could see its true, callous nature and passion for destruction without motive, they woke up. They wanted it dead, and they were paying him good money to slay it. Jenson picked up the pace, retracing his steps back towards the ruins of Amibia, hopping over some incapacitated citizens that seemed to be crawling towards the River in the process.  
  
Eventually Jenson met the clearing, which appeared to be to a hollow bowl shape with what was left of the village deposited at the centre of the decline. From this angle, Jenson could clearly trace the path of the elemental. There were some random pockets of careless devastation in the village itself, but a clear line of fire was visible where the village met the first row of trees, almost as if the elemental only knew of one route to the village from the Shrine. Jenson could see where he had to go, but time was of the essence. It was likely that there were other vengeful souls already traversing the forest to the Shrine. If they beat him to the elemental and managed to slay it, Jenson would have no claim to his promised money. With the usual determination in his eyes, Jenson leapt forwards down the hill, tore past a smoking shrub, ignored the blast of lightning that collided with one of the condemned buildings behind him, and ran as fast as humanly possible towards the Shrine.  
  
Amibia looked like an entire army of Orcs had pillaged it. The rain above had quelled a lot of the flames, but the smell of smoke still offended his nose, though not quite as much as the stench of the char-grilled human child that he had to step over to persevere onwards. This was mindless carnage, a force of the worst kind. Jenson passed a burning cart, hearing screams from the inside. The metal catch on the door had fused shut from the heat, encapsulating what sounded like a desperate man, albeit very muffled in the smoke and flaming wood, who was frantically scrabbling at the door to escape. Jenson paused momentarily to cock his head to the side. He considered going to this man's aid, but to do so would likely be both unprofitable and costly of precious time. Jenson disregarded the doomed human, and cooly left him to die in the searing heat.  
  
The path to the Shrine was fairly simplistic. Again there was the sense of descension that could be felt when approaching the centre of Amibia, though this time there was no discernable slope. The Shrine was relatively easy to locate, as the most direct path had already been highlighted in ash. Unfortunately, there were fresh footprints in the blackened soil - Someone was nearby. Another mercenary? Jenson noted that the tracks veered off into the trees, which was illogical of someone that would be hunting this elemental. Perhaps it was just a curious human... No, upon a more careful examination Jenson decided that it was either an Orc or an Ogre, based on the size of its feet.  
  
A twig cracked.  
  
Jenson barely had a chance to flinch when the Ogre burst through a wall of blackened vines, and smashed both his clasped hands into his shoulder. Jenson crumpled instantly, flattened into the dirt and left to writhe in agony beneathe the gloating fiend.  
  
"Stupid human," Bellowed the Ogre. "You not take MY kill! Hahahaha!!" Through his blurred vision and vague mist of pain, Jenson saw the Ogre raise his foot. The brute was preparing to stamp on his skull, invariably causing death. There was the suggestion in his fogged mind that he should probably get out of the way, but it was over-ridden by the sudden need to rest. With a dislocated arm, lying on the verge of death, Jenson passed out. But Death never came, and Jenson was too far gone to notice the wave of blistering heat that passed over his head. The fire elemental had been lingering nearby, and, attracted by the careless commotion of the Ogre, had arrived in time to intervene with the fight. A plume of flame lanced forth from the interlocked arms of the fire elemental, and the Orge was engulfed in a fiery coat. He screamed, toppled backwards and tripped over Jenson, and tumbled down a hill into the forest.  
  
Consciousness returned to the mercenary after several minutes. He awoke with a start, genuinely surprised that he was still breathing. He rolled backwards into the undergrowth that surrounded the makeshift path to the Shrine, and landed with his face in the crisped torso of the dead Ogre. His body still excreting steam, and smelt far worse than any of the burnt humans back in Amibia. Though, in retrospect, he never stuck his nose in their corpses. Gagging in revulsion, Jenson clambered to his feet, and winced as his dislocated arm touched a tree. Purposely, he shunted his shoulder against it a second time, locking the bone back in place with a sickening crunch. He picked his way back to the path laboriously avoiding the scene of the original battle, and resumed his course to the Shrine. With any luck he could set up a surprised attack on the fire elemental when he returned, seeing as the frontal brute strength of the Ogre was not even enough to fell the monstrosity. Jenson sighed. Stealthy kills were for assassins or cowards, and he was neither.  
  
~~~~~~ I have already written Part Two, and I will post it soon. Please feel free to make any comments you have :) ~~~~~~ 


End file.
